Month: February 2014

The Lovey Things

Four years ago, I went to a Thai restaurant with my best friends on this day. It was snowy and we were 19 and documented everything quite well… myriad pictures on snowy sidewalks, freshman year of music school.   Three years ago, I was somewhere between NYC and Cleveland (as it’s so often been), auditioning with hundreds of me-s for summer jobs. Two boys, rowdy and (I thought) way too cool to be my friends, told me to “take chances” in their guffawing, irreverent manner. I decided to. Two years ago when I woke up at 6 AM to squeeze into ballet tights and snow boots, he had set up an animation on his computer, set to oldies, pictures of us so happy. That was the biggest 6 AM smile I remember. A year ago I was in Florida on a school trip. I think it was raining. I was wearing a boxy t-shirt and school hopping, singing for teenagers.  This year, it’s a sunny morning after a massive snowfall. Yesterday was sleet, cotton snow, …

Find Your Version

Your food is what you think it is. Is your food making you fat? Is your food cleansing and beautiful? Is your food making you sick, bent over in pain, light? Your food is with your life. The latte tastes different at 6 AM on the way to work than it does at 2 in the afternoon at the outdoor cafe with your new lover. Watch where you connect your inner, expanding, confusing, painful, glorious life to what you put in your mouth. Let it be delicious. Consciously nourish yourself. I got the hell outta Dodge this weekend. Up above, that’s my Metro North ticket tucked into my socks. I climbed a mountain. I’d never been hiking alone before. My legs were (are) swollen, my feet were soaking wet, I got lost and intentionally slid down a snowy cliff on my yoga-pants-butt. I walked on the slight shoulder of a highway two miles back into town, honked at and squelching in my boots. I was so, so happy. Practically sleepwalking, I ordered a gouda avocado …

The Love of A Day + Candy Bars

We both agreed we were in a movie that day; the way we stood across the sidewalk from one another in frozen sunlight, trying to plan our next move authentically. Delivering great confusion to the woman on the corner handing out flyers. Earnestly plotting the next destination. One thrift shop, no, next thrift shop, no… we didn’t find what we were looking for. There was an in-between time when we let go of that plan and found our new adventure. That middle bit was static, stretched cotton… what do you say, what do you do, when you’re with one of your favorite people but feel totally uninteresting, bland and destination-less? You go to the East Village. You delight in the sight of the cobblestones, creeping up on you. You laugh about text messages and plan fake (absurd) vacations. You wonder out loud; wonderings that aren’t yet fully formed. But now they’re breathing between brains. You meander into your new favorite bookstore, whose bathroom requires the payment of a quarter because “the disposal of needles in …